


Salt

by iamlongstockings



Series: Requests [2]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Attraction, Canon Compliant, Grief/Mourning, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-How to Train Your Dragon: The Hidden World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamlongstockings/pseuds/iamlongstockings
Summary: “This hurts enough without you pouring more salt in the wound. But thanks for that, Snotlout.”
Relationships: Fishlegs Ingerman/Snotlout Jorgenson
Series: Requests [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151015
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	Salt

**Author's Note:**

> 'What about a Fishlout comfort scene after HTTYD 3?' was requested by an anon on tumblr, and once again I totally blew my target wordcount.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

Despite how late it was, and how rough his eyelids felt against his eyes, Fishlegs couldn’t bear to go to bed. He just couldn’t bring himself to face what waited on the other side of the sunrise. For the first time in more than half a decade, he’d be waking up alone. Meatlug and her son, Fishmeat, had gone to the Hidden World with the other dragons. For the first time in generations, Berk would wake up to a day with not even a single dragon sighting. Tomorrow was the first day of life without their dragons. And that wasn’t something he was ready to face. Not yet.

Pushing himself to his feet, the blond viking turned away from his desk and shouldered his way out into the cool night air, away from the suffocating quiet of his home.

He didn’t have a destination in mind, he just needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere that wasn’t such a constant reminder of the ginormous empty place in his life, in his home, and in his heart that had once been occupied by Meatlug and her son.

His green eyes searching the horizon for something that would never come, it wasn’t until the boards creaked underfoot that he realized that he’d ended up at the docks again.

For several moments, he just stood there, lost in his grief, until movement at the end of the dock caught his eye and he broke free of his trance.

His heart leaped at the fleeting hope that perhaps his beloved Meatlug had returned after all. But the figure at the edge of the dock was far too small to be a Gronckle.

“Don’t soil yourself, Fishface. It’s just me.” Snotlout said, leaning back. His voice was more gravelly than usual, almost as though he had been crying. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh.” Fishlegs said, his shoulders slumping.

“You can sit if you want.” When Fishlegs hesitated for a moment too long, Snotlout shrugged and looked away. And when he spoke, there was more of a sharpness in his tone. “Or don’t. Whatever, I don’t care.”

Snotlout leaned forward and rested his forearms against his knees. As Fishlegs settled beside him, Snotlout lifted his horned helm from his head and held it in his lap, turning it over in his hands like someone who had never seen one before. Swinging his legs over the side of the dock, Fishlegs stared at the reflection of his boots in the dark waters, using their silhouette to blot out the reflection of the stars, as though attempting to shape the world to reflect the ache in his chest.

Despite their new proximity, the silence suddenly seemed to become a chasm between them, filled only by the constant lapping of the water against the docks and New Berk’s gravel shoreline.

As much as it felt like he should fill the silence with _something_ , Fishlegs didn’t trust himself to speak. His throat was so tight, he wasn’t sure he could make a single sound even if he’d tried.

After what felt like an eternity, Snotlout set his helm on the dock. “I can’t believe they’re really gone. Just doesn’t feel real, you know?”

Fishlegs nodded, biting his trembling lip.

“I keep thinking that I’m gonna look up and see Hooky-” Snotlout’s voice cut off abruptly, and he leaned forward to rest his head against his hands.

“At least we have each other – the other dragon riders, I mean.”

Snotlout snorted. “Yeah, _great_ consolation prize. Definitely makes up for not having my dragon.”

“Just trying to look on the bright side-”

“Of _course_ , you are.” Snotlout sneered with disgust, rolling his eyes “Wonder how your _precious Meatlug_ would feel if she knew you were looking on the _bright side_ of never seeing her again?”

Flinching at the bile in the shorter man’s tone, Fishlegs pulled his legs back up onto the dock. “This hurts enough without you pouring more salt in the wound. But thanks for that, Snotlout.”

Getting to his feet, he turned back towards the village, blinking away tears.

He had scarcely gone more than three steps when he heard Snotlout call after him. “Fishlegs, I’m sorry.”

For once, Snotlout’s voice had next to none of its usual abrasiveness. Instead, it sounded strained, like he was as much on the verge of tears as Fishlegs himself was. And there was a strange softness to it too, that caught Fishlegs a little off guard. A softness that somehow sounded like defeat.

“Please don’t go.”

After standing frozen in place for what seemed like an eternity, Fishlegs found himself settling back on the dock next to Snotlout, who had his head in his hands once again. For all his bravado, Snotlout looked like he might even have been more shattered than Fishlegs felt.

For a moment, Fishlegs nearly placed a comforting hand on Snotlout’s trembling shoulder, but at the last moment, he’d hesitated and pulled away, instead leaning forward and crossing his forearms over his knees like Snotlout was.

Snotlout’s relationship with Hookfang had always seemed strained, and sometimes even indifferent, but in that moment, Fishlegs realized that was not the case. Despite the somewhat insulting manner Snotlout sometimes had used in regard to Hookfang, and Hookfang’s often irritated responses to Snotlout's antics, he realized that they just expressed their love differently than the others. Not lesser, just different. And as different as Snotlout and Hookfang’s relationship had seemed on the surface, Fishlegs realized it was just as strong as his own bond with Meatlug.

“They’re safe now.” Fishlegs said finally, glancing over at the other man, whose hand was covering his eyes. “Safe from anything or anyone who might want to hurt them.”

After drawing a shaky breath, Snotlout lowered his hand back into his lap, and absentmindedly wiped his palms against his trousers. Snotlout had intentionally angled his face away, and his dark hair blocked even his profile from view.

“I just miss him.” Snotlout said softly, beginning to scratch at a loose thread on his knee.

“I bet they miss us as much as we miss them.”

Snotlout abruptly turned his face towards the blond then, his jaw slack with surprise. As Fishlegs had expected, Snotlout’s face was red, and his eyes were swollen from crying. And as he followed Snotlout’s pale blue eyes to their hands, Fishlegs realized very suddenly that he’d taken one of Snotlout’s fidgeting hands in one of his own.

Mortified, he released his grip on the other man’s hand as though it had suddenly turned red-hot, and retracted his own hand back into his lap to reunite it with its twin. His knuckles turning white from how firmly he had his hands clasped together, Fishlegs stared down at them, trying to ignore the strange tingle in the fingers of his left hand, where his skin had been pressed against Snotlout’s only seconds prior. He could feel the intense warmth of a blush in his face, and for a moment, he wished so strongly that the ground would open up and swallow him that he considered just slipping off the end of the dock and letting the saltwater consume him.

Suffocating under the weight of Snotlout’s curious stare, Fishlegs had nearly resolved himself to letting the ocean decide his fate when a hand pried apart his locked fingers, and Snotlout took his hand once more, his calloused thumb gently brushing against Fishlegs’ much larger fingers.

And with their hands linked, they remained together on the dock until nearly sunrise, watching the stars and listening to the soothing sounds of the waves against the shore as they reminisced about their dragon riding days.


End file.
